


what he doesn’t know

by flashandsubstance



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Episode: s03e06 Motel California, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, motel california made me feel human emotions for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 09:39:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16637465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashandsubstance/pseuds/flashandsubstance
Summary: What Stiles doesn’t know won’t hurt him.





	what he doesn’t know

**Author's Note:**

> the working title for this was ‘i swear to god my interest in teen wolf is purely ironic’ which is super accurate to my dilemma.
> 
> on a more serious note, i wrote this fic as a way to vent. it’s about 12:43 am and i started this fic at exactly 12:00 am. i get big sad around now? yaknow?? 
> 
> 12:00 am is sadboi hours.

There’s a lot that Stiles doesn’t know.

Not about werewolves, of course. Scott is always as candid as possible when it comes to magic. 

His deductive skills are irreplaceable.  _ He _ is irreplaceable.

Not Scott. Scott is just a beta, and not even a particularly strong or useful one. He’s worth nothing.

But that’s beside the point.

There’s a lot that Scott doesn’t tell Stiles. 

It’s not really that he thinks that Stiles can’t handle it, actually, he doesn’t know why he never told Stiles.

He doesn’t tell Stiles about the nights spent awake, crying himself to sleep.

He doesn’t tell Stiles about the isolation and loneliness he feels within, a sort of internal alienation.

He doesn’t tell Stiles about the way his senses go into overdrive and make the world unbearable.

He doesn’t tell Stiles about the near-constant thoughts of death and dying, of the times he nearly acted on those thoughts.

He doesn’t tell Stiles of the few times he found himself sitting on the bathroom floor, blood beading against scratches on his leg, feeling nothing but the crushing weight of responsibility.

That weight on his shoulders- Scott almost feels like Atlas, carrying the world on his back, yet no one is able to see the burden he bears.

Or if they do, they don’t care.

Derek’s death was the last straw. Or maybe it was the Darach, messing with his head. Or the wolfsbane.

Or the Glen Capri itself.

Whatever the reason, Scott broke. (It makes him sick to admit it to himself, but he’s glad he didn’t snap alone. It’s always more visible when you’re the only one to lose it.)

First Ethan, with a buzzsaw. Lydia unplugged the buzzsaw, heat brought him back.

Then Boyd, in the tub. The flare, and Stiles’s deductive reasoning pulled him to reason.

Next was Isaac, curled up under the bed. The flare they’d rolled to him pulled him away.

Finally, it came to him. He’d doused himself in gasoline, almost mechanically. He struck the flare, and waited. He even spoke to them. Lydia, Allison, and Stiles. Stiles reasoned with him, gently taking the flare from his hand with the kind of gentility that was purely his. Stiles had freed him.

Nobody remembered afterward that he had lit the flare.

Nobody had wondered why he still wanted to die even after direct exposure to heat.

Scott was, in a twisted sort of way, was glad that Stiles hadn’t figured out.

That Stiles doesn’t know.

Stiles doesn’t know that Scott been completely lucid since he’d lit the flare.

Stiles doesn’t know that he’d meant it all.

**Author's Note:**

> this is in the progress of being rewritten as i get back into teen wolf


End file.
